


Take:Take

by Fuseaction



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Face Slapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuseaction/pseuds/Fuseaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pariston gets as good as he gives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take:Take

The rat-faced fuck had touched him yet again during a Zodiac meeting, gracefully coming to stand behind Ging’s chair as he presented his case for WHO CARES WHAT. He’d stopped listening as soon as Cheadle got heated. The only thing that had brought him back to the present was Pariston’s hand resting suddenly on his shoulder, fingers splayed so they went slightly up the curve of his neck. His back had gone ramrod the moment the contact happened, teeth gritting and his posture closing up further.

And it hadn’t ended there. The rat’s hand was shielded from view by Ging’s voluminous scarf wrap, giving plenty of cover for the way that those devious fingers started stroking his skin. His darkly tanned face heated up with a mix of rage and embarrassment, though his hat hung low enough to cover most of his visage. He’d made a move to shrug off the contact only to suppress a hiss of pain as the blond’s nails dug deep.

"Isn’t that right, Ging?" He looked up into those cold eyes, those eyes that always looked like they were laughing at something terrible to come. Pariston’s mouth was in a wide and overly-pleasant smile that had long become his trademark. Ging’s rage bubbled as he shot a daggerish look right into those unblinking eyes. He couldn’t do anything here. Not without being immediately restrained and penalized by the others. He’d wait.

"If it’s coming from you, no," he grumbled, determined to be obstinate to the very last. All the others sighed and muttered, knowing they should have expected this from the Boar. The fingers withdrew their grip, but not without a last parting pinch. He spent the rest of the meeting with his boots up on the conference table, blocking out the view of the room. He’d make him pay.

**

"Pariston," Ging growls, kicking the door to the vice-chairman’s office closed. He bolts the door with force. He’ll do it. He’ll kill him right here. Right now. Anything to wipe that flirtatiously unconcerned look off the Rat’s face. Quick as lightning he’s standing with his hands fisted on the wood of vice-chairman’s desk.

"What can I do for you…Ging darling?" Pariston’s smile widens even more, though the twist of his lips is something much darker and sadistic, something the shining public figure kept between himself and his darling. Ging snatches for the man’s collar, pulling him closer. Such intimate proximity makes his heart hit his chest just a little bit harder.

"How many weeks d’you think you’d be out of commission if I broke all of your fingers right now?" He whispers this to the side of Pariston’s face, lips brushing the smooth skin there, inhaling forcefully with the scent of the man’s cologne. He wants to bite him. Wants to bite that disgustingly warm flesh. He wants to shake him out of his mask of calm. "Fingers…wrists…arms…"

"Oh, Ging. You’re making me blush. Though I’m sure you can do much better than that, if you’re trying to make casual threats.” Pariston’s voice is even softer than it was when he walked in, sending a rippling urge to wrap a hand around his throat through the muscles of his arm. Impulse control was always something Ging left to the wayside, anyways. He snatches the pale neck into his grasp, squeezing until Pariston’s pulse thumps insistently against his fingertips.

"Oh look…something we agree on." Ging rounds the desk, face set with something predatory, hands already moving to force Pariston down across his own desk, trapping one arm behind his back and hiking it high enough for a low sound to leave the Rat’s throat. A low sound that permeates into Ging’s already feverish aggression. He releases a shaking breath, eyes dragging hard down the pinned figure before him. God, this does things to him.

Pariston shifts slightly, knowing full well how closely Ging is pressed against him. He turns his head slightly to look back at the Boar, testing the grip on his arm only to moan with pain a little louder as his arm is handled roughly. “Hh…ah…Ging…” His tone is breathless. Falsely so. He gives a cold smile. “Hmph. I think you might be losing your touch.”

"You think so?" Ging pulls blond’s hair harshly with his free hand, bringing their faces closer. He bites the exposed flesh above Pariston’s collar, pinching and dragging his teeth, leaving scores of maroon. With his head at this angle Pariston’s breathing is labored, audible, perfectly desperate to Ging’s ears. There’s no doubt about it, the Rat is getting flushed. The satisfied growl reverberates from his mouth down the tenderly painful skin under his tormenting touch.

"Mn…You’re so easy to rile. All this for me~? I’ll have to be sure to touch you mor- Ahn! Hhm…" Pariston’s words cut off into much smaller, much less sarcastic syllables as he’s turned, arm released, trapped between the hand in his hair and the hand now gripping and rubbing between his thighs. Ging’s mouth makes a harsh pilgrimage from the pale throat to the lips responsible for that disgusting smile. He bites and sucks on them, making them his property. 

"If they could see you now," he slurs into the mouth of the man he hates most in this world, tongue pushing past teeth. "If they could see you like this…" He pulls Pariston’s hair until the taller man drops to his knees, making it easier to bear down on him. The Rat smirks and opens his mouth to speak, only to have Ging’s fingers pushed in against his tongue. "You. Don’t say a damn word." Teeth testingly bite down on his fingers, to which he responds with a heavy handed strike to Pariston’s cheek.

The man gives a small whine of compliance, suckling and slipping the fingers further in, eyes closing slightly, face tipped up to accept them. Ging himself is breathing hard by now, closely watching Pariston’s mouth as it slicks his fingers. Another sharp bite, another strike, another moan. This is their way with each other. This is their version of affection, attention. Provocation, retaliation, resistance, acceptance…

Pariston makes glassy eye contact as he does as he’s told, one cheek swollen and stinging so deliciously. And just as quickly as his submission came the man’s eye regain their malicious glint, pulling his mouth from Ging’s fingers and licking his lips with a curious tilt of his head. “Mn…you certainly taste like tomb dust and unwash. Can’t imagine you’ve had contact with water in a decade…Isn’t that right, my dirty darling?”

Ging snarls and unwinds his travel scarf, stuffing it into Pariston’s mouth and tying it tightly behind his head, the length of it leaving plenty of slack with which to bind his arms. The blond man sighs emphatically, acting bored because he knows it pisses Ging off. Holding onto the knotted fabric at the back of Pariston’s head, Ging none too gently leads him on his knees towards the small sofa next to the bookcase, taking his seat while setting a shoe on the blond head that now rests against the floor, back sloping. Trapped like this, Pariston can only wordlessly complain and wring his wrists.

"Much better, isn’t it? You’ve shut up, you’re right where I want you…" Ging admires the shameful ass-up position before taking a rough handful of one cheek and squeezing, his fingers digging against the seam down the back before gliding down between his legs for more sensitive prey. Before he even starts fondling Pariston is making small sounds, trying to lean back into the touch. Ging gropes with full-handed intent to make the man helplessly needy, paying special attention to the firming flesh, watching as the small sounds become vocal moans and the hands so carefully tied shake and twist.

Just as it seems Pariston is on the edge Ging pulls his hand back to swat the presented ass, pulling the blond up to fully see his face, to play witness to the crumbling of the witty veneer. The Rat is flushed and trembling and from the looks of it far from possessing the capability of speech. Ging is hard and has waited long enough, tugging down the front of his trousers before pulling the knot gagging Pariston’s mouth, only to roughly have him gag on something else. The earlier eagerness that he had towards Ging’s fingers is tenfold now as he sets his lips around his current task.

The Boar groans with his knees wide to make space for Pariston between them, the sucking sounds loud enough on their own that he bites his own lips for some shred of composure. But when Pariston sets himself to please, he takes no shortcuts and gives no thought to shame or whether or not they’ll be heard. “Hhah…! God…Paris…fuck-!” Ging is nearing his climax, hands gripping the leather sofa tightly. Just a little bit more, just a little harde-! Pariston sets his teeth carefully into the motion, the graze such a vastly different sensation that Ging moans hard, the first dribbles making their way into the Rat’s mouth. 

Huffing and swearing, Ging quickly pulls Pariston back by his hair, shooting the rest of the hot liquid on his face and suit. A little present for doing such a good job. He fixes his trousers and unties his scarf from the dazed blond’s hands before wrapping it back around his neck and heading to the door. Pariston’s glazed eyes follow him, mouth still slack. Ging winks and gives a cruel smile. “I’ve had better…Darling.” He lets himself out of the office, leaving the Rat where he left him on the floor.


End file.
